


golden

by doitforthecarstairs



Category: The Last Hours Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:55:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29659284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doitforthecarstairs/pseuds/doitforthecarstairs
Summary: Cortana choosing Cordelia, Alastair's POV.February 22: a scene from CHOG
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12
Collections: Chain of Iron countdown





	golden

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings for slight mention of internalized homophobia, hints of emotional/verbal abuse and alcoholism.

“It’s mine!”

Alastair tried to take the sword again, filled with determination. “It certainly isn’t!” 

Cordelia tried to get away with the weapon, stumbling her way back, but she was considerably shorter than him and he easily took it away. “Tell her, Father,” he said as he shook his head in an attempt to take his hair out of his eyes. “Tell her it isn’t hers!”

“Kerm nariz, Alastair. Enough.” His father’s monotous voice called. Of course he wouldn’t call his precious little girl out. In different circumstances, Alastair would probably laugh. 

Elias stood up — and stayed that way without his help, he thought in mocking surprise — and walked toward his children. Alastair still held Cortana over his head, away from Cordelia’s grip. If she wanted the sword, she would fight for it. He wouldn’t take part in spoiling his little sister. That is unfair, he scolded himself, but he didn’t find it in himself to feel sorry.

Alastair hated how familiar that scene was. For a moment, they were just two siblings fighting over some petty thing until their parents made them hug each other like when they were children. I still hate you, little Alastair would whisper in his sister’s ear, and she’d stick her tongue out. Those were simpler times, their father making them train until they were covered in sweat, but at least he was there. Low bar, Alastair called himself out.

“Cordelia,” his dad said, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Why, exactly, do you want Cortana?”

His sister considered for a moment. She glanced at him for a second, just a second. Alastair could see the stubbornness in the way she tilted her chin up, so similar to his own expression, but there was a casual fierceness in hers that reminder him of their mother.

“Cortana was made by Wayland the Smith. He made swords for all the greatest heroes—” she kept rambling as his mind slipped away.

“Cordelia, we all know this,” he interrupted her, half wanting to prove his dad wrong and half wanting this whole thing to be over. “No need for a history lesson.”

Cordelia glared at him, and for a moment he wondered if she just wanted the sword so she could stab him. 

Elias moved closer to the siblings as if to take the sword away, but didn’t move to do so. “So you want to be a hero,” he asked, with a spark in his eyes Alastair was sure he would never look at him with. 

“Cortana has one sharp edge and one dull one,” she ignored her brother’s comment. “Because of that, it has often called a sword of mercy. I want to be a merciful hero.”

Elias nodded. If he felt satisfied by her answer, he didn’t let it show. “And you?” he asked his son. 

Because I’m worthy! he wanted to shout. Because every time you told me I wasn’t, it made me train harder, made me want harder! Alastair tried his best to keep any emotions out of his face. He wouldn’t give his father the satisfaction of his anger. 

“It’s a Carstairs sword,” he instead replied as if it was obvious. “I’m Alastair Carstairs and I always will be. When Cordelia gets married and has a passel of brats, one of them will end up with Cortana- And they won’t be a Carstairs.” 

He mentioned nothing about starting a family himself, and the reason thumped on the back of his mind. It doesn’t matter. I’m still worthy. He had lost track of his surroundings, his family disappearing in a moment of doubt and peace. 

“He’s right.” Elias’ deep voice brought him back to the training room. “Cordelia, let your brother keep the sword.”

Was it a trick? Surely his dad wouldn’t let him have their family’s legendary sword so easily. What about the times he told him it would never choose him, that no one would, drunkenly mumbling to himself about his eldest son as if he wasn’t there listening? 

Maybe he changed his mind, the most hopeful, useless part of him insisted. Maybe he’s seen how hard you’ve been training, how hard you’ve been trying. Thousands of maybes crossed through his mind, but Alastair didn’t allow himself to think about them any further.

He waved his thoughts away, sneering arrogantly at his indignant sister. His sister, he remembered, who had a heartbroken look on her face. The reason he dealt with their dad every night. He’s sacrificed everything to make her happy. How could he be so selfish as to take away the only thing she’s ever wanted? Elias’ voice came back to his mind. You’re so, so selfish, just like your mother.

No, he reminded himself louder. I’m worthy, I’m worthy, I’m worthy. He walked to the edge of the platform, suddenly wanting to get away from all of this.

“But Cortana is mine!” Cordelia suddenly shouted. “I know it is!” 

Alastair was about to protest, not wanting to deal with his entitled sister with such a strong headache. Then, in a blink, Cortana flew to Cordelia’s hand across the room. She closed her hand around its golden hilt, looking as surprised as he felt. 

“Father,” Alastair refused to sputter. “Is this some sort of trick?” It had to be. He could barely hide the confusion in his voice, the kind of vulnerable emotion he deep down knew Elias was looking for. As if he had heard his son’s thoughts, his father smiled, never taking his eyes away from his humiliated, empty-handed son. 

“Sometimes the sword chooses the bearer. Cortana will be Cordelia’s. Now, Alastair—” 

But Alastair wasn’t listening. He wanted to argue; he wanted to scream; he wanted to whisper and break down and ask why. Most importantly, he needed to leave. He stalked out of the room, the bitterness in his brain felt like poison. 

He imagined Elias would want to congratulate his golden girl, as if his silver son wasn’t silently crying his heart out upstairs.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on Tumblr under the same name!


End file.
